


ibac jaon

by wrennette



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: AU during battle of atollon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Kallus whump, Recovery, Whump, Whumptober, but takes place a while later, pre-relationship Kalluzeb, so there's some blood, torture aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-24 20:03:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20913326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: Fulcrum had given up on being found.





	ibac jaon

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't based on any specific whumptober prompt, but it ticks off more than one box. No actual torture is on-screen, just the aftermath. I was also exploring a little bit the idea of Kallus having Mando heritage because he's definitely stubborn enough and a good enough fighter to be Mando.

The prisoner huddled in on himself as the transport shuddered. Beneath the hood that blinded him to his surroundings, he gnawed nervously at his lip. After months in captivity, isolated save when he was interrogated, his spirit had been beaten down almost to nothing. He had managed not to give up any information, but the methods to which he’d been subjected went beyond cruel to torturous, and he’d begun to hope only for death, an end to the pain and humiliation.

A terrific shriek of metal, and under the hooting of sirens and distant bark of blasterfire, the prisoner heard quiet footsteps enter his cell. His head jostled as the hood was tugged off, and he blinked owlishly up, even the dim red backup lighting blinding after so long in darkness. Someone stood between him and the corridor, but he couldn’t see well enough to identify them, pain blanking his vision with every flare of the strobing white lights. He wasn’t sure it mattered anyway. They were there to either kill him or free him, and he was honestly unsure which result was preferable. 

“Kallus?” An almost familiar voice asked, and the prisoner grunted, squinting against the emergency light. A large, warm hand cupped the side of his face, and he hissed, trying to draw back. “Your jaw?” the voice asked, and Kallus grunted again, dipping his chin slightly in affirmation. _Dislocated_ he couldn’t bring himself to say, the pain too great. “Once you’re free, can you stand?” Kallus was asked, and he blinked against the tears in his eyes, then shook his head minutely. “Alright, let me see what I can do about those restraints, then we’ll get you out of here.”

Those large hands gently reached around Kallus, and he leaned into the rebel’s warm bulk. Soft fur brushed lightly against Kallus’ skin, and a faint musk filled his nose. He knew this person, Kallus thought, and a moment later the name surfaced in his sluggish, pain-hazed mind. Garazeb Orrelios. _Zeb_, Kallus reminded himself, relief swamping his system and drowning the pain momentarily. _Safe_. He grunted again, leaning more purposefully into Zeb, pressing his forehead to a broad shoulder. 

“I have you,” Zeb said, voice still tense. A moment later the restraints fell away from Kallus’ mangled wrists. Gently Zeb brought Kallus’ hands forward, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he registered the rubbed raw skin documenting Kallus’ struggles, the scabbed over finger ends where his nails had been torn out, the first and second fingers amputated at the second knuckle. “Karabast,” Zeb whispered quietly, then set about removing the hobbles from Kallus’ ankles. He was as gentle as possible, not certain what other hurts might be hidden under Kallus’ grey jumpsuit.

“I’m going to lift you now,” Zeb warned, then carefully slid his hands under Kallus’ legs. The agent, Zeb could already tell, had lost a startling amount of weight. Once muscular thighs were thin and wasted beneath his clothing, and he was far easier to lift than Zeb remembered. Kallus let out another soft grunt, then a choked whine of pain as he tried to raise his arms to hold onto Zeb’s shoulders. 

Zeb made soft hushing noises, shifting his hold so he cradled Kallus against his chest with a single arm. He was certain such a carry wouldn’t have worked the year before when they’d saved one another over Geonosis, but clearly a great deal had changed in the interim. With Kallus in one arm and his weapon in the other, Zeb made his way to the extraction point as quickly as possible. 

“Whoa,” Ezra greeted, staring at the human cradled in Zeb’s arm. “Is that Agent-?” 

“Questions later, he can’t talk,” Zeb said a bit sharply, and carried his burden into their vessel. Shortly, the rest of the team arrived - just Rex, Sabine and Ezra on this run - and they were blasting their way out, crippling the Imperial vessel as they fled. 

“Haran,” Rex said softly when he got a look at the prisoner. “Let’s get him fixed up.” Kallus didn’t respond, the slightest motion hurt. Gently, Rex eased the jumpsuit down Kallus’ too thin form to the waist. Sabine blushed and turned away when it became clear that the jumpsuit was the only thing Kallus had on. Beneath, the agent’s pale skin was riddled with bruises, scabs, and scars of varying age. It was clear he’d been thoroughly tortured, the marks telling of carefully inflicted pain.

Taking care, Rex gently dabbed at the open wounds with disinfectant. Kallus flinched slightly a few times, letting out pitiable little whines of pain. Rex spoke softly as he worked, nattering about unimportant things to try and keep Kallus’ mind off his hurts. 

“That’s the best we can manage for now. When we get to base, we’ll be able to get you better treatment,” Rex said when he had done what he could. Kallus grunted, then sloppily made the Mando handsign for gratitude. It didn’t quite look right, between his mutilated fingers and shaking hands, but Rex understood will enough. Rex blinked, but nodded. He hadn’t realized an Imperial might know gaanjorhaa, although it made sense - the stormtroopers had been trained from the start by vode, so of course they’d passed on the handtalk.

The Phantom linked up with the Ghost a few hours later, and Zeb again gently lifted Kallus. High as Kallus was on painkillers by that point, he just leaned into Zeb’s warm bulk with a soft whine of discomfort. 

“Hate to say it, but he’s kinda cute like this,” Sabine teased, then slid down into the Ghost. Zeb huffed softly, but carried Kallus through to his own quarters and laid him in the bunk. Gently, he peeled the jumpsuit off, swearing as he caught the heavy scent of fresh blood. 

“Easy now Kal,” Zeb murmured, gently turning the man so he lay on his belly. He grimaced, eyes confirming what the smell had suggested. The lightly scabbed wounds on Kallus’ back had opened, and were bleeding freely. The hurts on his legs were bleeding too. “Lay still, I’m going to get Rex so we can get you a bit more comfortable, but it might be for the best if we just knock you out until we get to base.” Kallus grunted, and by the time Zeb returned with Rex, Kallus had passed back out even without a sedative. 

Rex grimaced, recognizing the signs of torture as easily as Zeb had. While Zeb hadn’t said anything beyond asking Rex for further first aid help, Rex understood immediately what was necessary. He wasn’t going to do anything though, without warning Kallus first. Despite how weak and injured the Imperial appeared, Rex had a feeling the bastard would come up swinging if he was taken by surprise. 

“You wake him,” Rex suggested, “carefully.” Zeb grunted, remembering the elbow to the face he got when he surprised Kallus on Bahryn. Reaching out, Zeb hesitated, determining where it was safest to touch Kallus’ battered body. Gently Zeb settled his hand on Kallus’ head, carding though greasy blond hair. Kallus grunted softly, and went tense. 

“Just me Kal. Rex is going to help with the bacta, I don’t want to claw you up,” Zeb said, continuing his careful petting. “Okay?”

Kallus extended a single hand, signalling to Rex that he was ready. Rex nodded, and both he and Zeb could see the tension knotting along Kallus’ broad shoulders. Rex worked fast but careful, daubing disinfectant on hurts all over Kallus’ back. He growled softly when he cleared away the blood from a patch of mangled flesh on Kallus’ shoulder blade to reveal something like the Fulcrum symbol, crudely burned into Kallus’ skin. Rex winced silently in sympathy each time Kallus flinched, then smoothed bacta over the torn skin. Kallus whined softly, and Zeb scratched gently at his scalp, trying to distract him. 

“Udesii, udesii,” Rex crooned, and Kallus, to his surprise, obeyed, the bunched muscles of his back loosening slightly. Rex blinked, but continued to speak quiet, gentling Mando’a like he would to an injured brother. Rex kept one hand on Kallus’ quivering flank as he spread bacta over the hurts on Kallus’ legs, jaw clenched tight. By the time he reached Kallus’ feet, the soles pock-marked with livid, circular burns, the toenails ripped out, Kallus was again tense with pain. “Ibac jaon,” Rex promised when he was done, wiping off his hands. “Me’vaar ti gar?” Rex asked, lifting the sheet to cover Kallus’ legs. Kallus rolled over onto his side, sluggishly signing.

_Hurt_, Kallus’ hands formed in sloppy gaanjorhaa. 

“Tayli’bac Mando’a?” Rex asked to make sure.

_Words_, Kallus signed, his motions shaky and uncertain.

“Mando’a,” Rex stressed, and Kallus shrugged. 

_Parent words_, Kallus signed, but his hands were trembling, and it was clear he was fading. 

“Udesii, nuhoyii,” Rex soothed, and gently patted Kallus’ hip. He rose, glancing at Zeb before silently exiting. As he hoped, Zeb followed. 

“What’s up?” Zeb asked quietly, eyes darting back into the bunkroom. 

“You know where your agent is from?” Rex asked. 

“Nah,” Zeb admitted. “We’ve talked some about the past, but not that. Why? This have to do with him knowing Mando’a?” Rex nodded.

“It’s not a common language outside Mandalorian space,” Rex said quietly. “I didn’t expect to find an Imperial who understood it outside the sector. Knowing gaanjorhaa - the handsigns - that’s more understandable. We clones used gaanjorhaa on the battlefield, the clones who got pulled into the Empire would have taught that to the Stormtroopers, it would make sense for a field agent to know that. But it doesn’t explain him understanding Mando’a.”

“You’ll have to ask him again when his jaw heals,” Zeb said with a shrug, and Rex nodded. There wasn’t much else to be done. 

When they did get back to base, Kallus was whisked away immediately to the infirmary, while the rest of the crew went to debrief. Zeb recited his actions until he thought he could give the recounting in his sleep; we dropped out of hyperspace, there was a ship to ship battle, we boarded the transport, we killed the guards, we found the prisoner, we realized we knew the prisoner and he was a Rebel informant, we rescued the poor fucker. We came home. We patched him up the best we could. 

Zeb eventually finished, and took himself to the mess hall, such as it was. His mouth felt stuffed with cotton, he’d been talking so long. When he’d had a drink - and a bite to eat, as his stomach reminded him it had been a while - he found himself in the infirmary. Kallus had been dumped into a bacta tank, clad only in the small white shorts that were standard during immersion. 

Already some of the bruising was fading, and the swelling had gone down in his face. Even so, it was hard to look at him. Worst was the Fulcrum symbol, branded on his back, although the silvery lightning tree scars etched on his skin from extended sessions under Imperial interrogation droids weren’t much better.

After the truncated transmission warning them about Thrawn, after the chaotic battle and escape from Atollon, Zeb had worried about Kallus. The way the Fulcrum message had cut off, and the subsequent arrival of Thrawn’s fleet - it had been no great stretch to imagine that Kallus had been discovered. And then they hadn’t heard from him. 

There had been quiet periods before, but nothing like after Atollon. And Zeb - Zeb had assumed that this man was probably lost to them, probably dead. It had hurt more than he’d anticipated.

When Zeb had pulled off that hood, Kallus was the last person he expected to find. At that point, he had accepted that their informant, a man he had begun to think of as a decent being, was dead. And then there Kallus was, battered, but alive. He’d looked so pitiable on that transport, and Zeb had hated that he pitied him. Kallus had evoked many emotions from Zeb over the years, had earned his respect and even some measure of affection since Bahryn. But on that ship, what Zeb had felt went far beyond his usual care. 

Now, watching Kallus float in the translucent bacta, Zeb could begin to acknowledge that despite there being gaps in his knowledge that a star destroyer could safely navigate through, he wanted a lot more than just friendship with this man. It would have to be slow, careful, Zeb knew. They would need to learn a lot about one another even to form a solid foundation for friendship. 

“Hey Zeb,” Rex greeted, coming in behind him. Zeb flicked an ear, greeting Rex with a grunt. Rex snorted. “Medics asked me earlier to give them some blood, so there’s a good chance he really is Mando, at least by breeding.” 

Zeb nodded. Isolated human populations tended to develop characteristic gene markers - nothing serious enough to create multiple species of humans, they traveled and interbred too much for that, but enough to trace someone’s ancestry through the DNA. From what he understood, it would be like comparing his genetics to those of a Lasat from Lira San - clearly the same species, but different too.

“They say what they needed it for?” Zeb asked. 

“Jaw was not only dislocated, parts of it were practically shattered. They had to do some serious reconstruction and give him some new teeth, too,” Rex said, gesturing vaguely at his own face. Zeb let out a soft whistle. 

“There’s been times I definitely wished I could shut him up by hitting him in the mouth, but that’s - wow,” Zeb admitted. Rex huffed out a soft laugh. “They say anything else about his condition?” Zeb asked, looking back up at Kallus. 

“Just that he’ll recover,” Rex said, shaking his head. Zeb nodded. The medics and the droids that assisted them were pretty good at maintaining confidentiality, but sometimes there was a bit of shouting during mass casualty events. 

“You come looking for me for any other reason?” Zeb asked after a while. 

“Nah, just figured you might want some company,” Rex said, clapping Zeb on the shoulder. Zeb huffed, but smiled slightly. There was a reason he liked the old clone. Well, more than one. But Rex was a good friend, and Zeb appreciated that. 

“Thanks,” Zeb said, eyes not shifting from Kallus. “Bets on how long it takes him to get back into fighting form?”

“No bet,” Rex said, a touch of a laugh colouring his voice. “That stubborn son of a Hutt will be back on his feet long before the medics recommend, even if he isn’t Mando.” Zeb chuckled softly. It was likely close to the truth.

Long before Kallus was back on his feet, Rebel intelligence was grilling him for information. Given none of them knew gaanjorhaa though, Rex was required to translate. Which meant each day when Kallus had been exhausted with questions and the medics chased intel out, Rex quietly told Zeb what he’d learned. 

Kallus had been captured on Lothal as he transmitted his warning - a warning that Thrawn knew about the attack on the TIE factory, a warning Thrawn had traced along with the path of General Dodonna’s fleet to locate the base at Atollon. That revelation sparked an extensive mole hunt - Dodonna hadn’t realized his movements could be or had been tracked by the Empire. 

During the battle, Kallus had been aboard the _Chimaera_. He’d nearly escaped when Thrawn left the ship under Pryce’s command to lead the ground assault. Unfortunately, Kallus hadn’t been able to make it to the pods, and had been pretty thoroughly beaten up in the attempt. After the battle, Thrawn had returned to his flagship infuriated at the rebels escape, and had taken much of that anger out on Kallus. The former agent had been beaten mercilessly while bound, then given only enough treatment to keep him alive for questioning. 

In the months since, Kallus’ treatment hadn’t improved. He’d been Thrawn’s personal prisoner for the duration, the Grand Admiral experimenting with various techniques to try and break Kallus’ impressive anti-interrogation training. Eventually, it had become clear that Kallus wouldn’t break for Thrawn, wouldn’t reveal what little he did know about the Rebellion. 

Thrawn had turned him over to Governor Pryce then, and she had been torturing him out of sheer sadism by the end, as it was clear by then that Kallus would take what information he had to his grave, and he’d been captive long enough anything he did know was likely out of date. They had tortured him nonetheless, sometimes not even bothering to ask questions, just running electricity through him until he passed out. Eventually, orders had come from higher up, and he’d been put on the shuttle, bound for interrogation on Coruscant, where ISB would try one more time to dismantle one of their own before executing him. 

Despite that he clearly had difficulties with it, Kallus recounted his torture. Beatings, drug cocktails, electrocution, mutilation, he listed all in exhaustive detail. It wore Rex down to translate the retelling. It didn’t help that Kallus’ knowledge of gaanjorhaa was fairly basic - which made sense to Rex - he knew battle commands mostly, things useful in the field. 

Gaanjorhaa as Kallus knew it wasn’t meant for a primary mode of communication. But his hands were still too damaged to type or write legibly, and his jaw was still healing, leaving him unable to speak. Rex ended up doing a fair bit of guessing, gently coaching Kallus along and teaching him more signs than the basic battle-signs. Often, the old soldier slipped into Mando’a as he helped Kallus, and every time he did, he noted that while Kallus’ comprehension certainly wasn’t perfect, he relaxed a bit, opened up more when addressed in Mando’a. 

When Kallus was finally released from the infirmary, it was into custody of the Ghost’s crew. He was still weak from his injuries and convalescence, and although he could stand, there was no way he could make it to the ship under his own power. Zeb gently picked him up, and Kallus flushed, burying his face in Zeb’s shoulder and clinging to him. Rex raised his eyebrows, a little surprised the former Agent was willing to be manhandled after all he’d undergone. Zeb just shrugged minutely, and then shifted his hold, cradling Kallus against his chest as he carried him home. 

“You’re in with me,” Zeb said softly as he strode up the ramp. He laid Kallus in his own bunk. “You want me to stick around?” Zeb asked, and Kallus, still blushing, nodded, gently tugging at Zeb’s hand until the lasat was curled around him on the narrow bed. Zeb swallowed, carefully making sure he wasn’t trapping or pinning Kallus.

In the morning, Zeb woke with an armful of injured Imperial snuggled tight to his chest, breath whistling softly as he slept. Zeb just lay there staring for a long moment, mentally cataloguing mussed blond hair and too-thin cheeks flushed with sleep. He didn’t find most humans at all attractive - was too worried he’d accidentally break them, they were a disconcertingly vulnerable species, not particularly well adapted despite spreading everywhere. But even knowing just how broken Kallus was, even too thin and bruised, he couldn’t help but think the man lovely. 

When Kallus woke, he did so silently, going suddenly still and tense in Zeb’s arms. Zeb almost unconsciously began to purr, a low, almost subaudible sound. Kallus nosed against him and relaxed, letting out a soft mewl of discomfort as the tension eased back out of him. Gently, Zeb cupped the back of Kallus’ head, scratching gently into his thick hair. Kallus let out a low sound of something like pleasure, wriggling until he was tucked in even tighter against Zeb. Zeb let out a low, rusty chuckle. 

“C’mon mate, let’s get you cleaned up a bit, you smell almost as strongly as I do,” Zeb insisted, and eased himself upright with Kallus still in his arms. Understanding he was about to be lifted, Kallus hung on Zeb like a kit, arms circling Zeb’s shoulders, legs grasping tight at his torso. Thankfully it was early enough that no one else was waiting for the ‘fresher. Zeb deposited Kallus on the head, then quickly ducked under the sonics himself. 

“You want a water shower?” Zeb asked when he got out, flicking his ears to dissipate the last of the discomfort from the sonics. 

Kallus perked up at that, and Zeb huffed softly, then carefully helped him to his feet. The shorts he’d slept in were already on the floor, so Zeb helped him into the cubicle and got the water going, holding Kallus up with one arm while the water streamed over him. Kallus washed up haltingly, and it wasn’t long before Zeb realized that this had likely been over ambitious of them. 

“I’m coming in mate,” Zeb declared as he saw how Kallus was flagging. Kallus nodded weakly, and it was a tight fit, but Zeb leaned Kallus gently against his chest and finished the task of getting him clean, then rinsing them both off. When the last of the soap had been washed away, Zeb switched over to sonics to dry them, then gently lifted Kallus and carried him out. Grabbing up their abandoned sleepwear, Zeb brought his charge back to the bunk. 

Zeb gently helped put more bacta on Kallus before tucking him back in. The trip to the fresher had clearly been exhausting for the man, because he just shifted a little to try and find a comfortable position, then closed his eyes. Zeb perched on the edge of the bed. Carefully, he reached out, carding his fingers into Kallus’ hair. He couldn’t get over the softness of it, nor the warm golden colour, a few shades paler than Kallus’ amber eyes. 

Rex found Zeb dozing at the head of the bunk an hour or so later, Kallus sleeping against his legs. Biting back a smile, Rex rapped his gauntlet against the doorframe. As he’d expected, both Zeb and Kallus startled awake, reaching for weaponry. 

“Settle down ad’e, just letting you know it’s feeding time,” Rex said with a grin. Zeb grumbled, but didn’t rise until he’d run his hand over Kallus’ hair and down over his bare shoulders a few times. 

When Rex had gone, Zeb finally stood, grabbing up a clean jumpsuit and dressing. A quiet, pained sound drew his attention back to the bed, and he crossed back to gently help Kallus into some of Kanan’s spare clothing, then pick Kallus up. Kallus flushed, but didn’t struggle, settling himself against Zeb as he had before. Zeb refrained from telling him just how cute he was like this, clinging like a kit.

“Uhhh,” Ezra greeted when Zeb walked in. Zeb huffed, depositing his flushing limpet on the bench. 

“Rex, need a translator,” Zeb shouted, then opened a packet of waffles and put them in the toaster for himself.

“What for?” Rex asked, poking his head in. 

“Care and feeding of former Imperials,” Zeb snarked back. 

“Well ad’ika?” Rex asked, and Kallus signed quickly. “He’s on liquid diet still, thin down some nutrient paste and he can take it through a straw.” Kallus nodded despite that his nose was wrinkled up with dissatisfaction.

“Sorry mate,” Zeb said, “tough luck.” Kallus snorted, then shrugged minutely. Zeb did as Rex suggested though, and with a grimace, Kallus drank his breakfast, looking wistfully at Zeb’s waffles. “I can tell I’m going to need to learn to sign,” Zeb said when he finished, watching Rex and Kallus’ silent conversation. Kallus’ fingers flashed.

“He says he should be able to speak again soon,” Rex interpreted. Zeb shrugged. 

“Even so, it’d be a useful skill,” Zeb said, earning him a soft, close-mouthed smile from Kallus.

**Author's Note:**

> **Mando’a**  
Gaanjorhaa = handtalk (author approximated this from gaan = hand and jorhaa’it = talk, v.)  
Udesii = be easy, calm down  
Ibac jaon = that’s over  
Me’vaar ti gar = How are you? (Lit: what's new with you?) Can also be used to ask a soldier for a sitrep. If a Mando asks you this, they expect an answer; it's literal.. The response for *I'm fine thanks,* is *Naas.* (Literally - nothing. )  
Tayli’bac Mando’a = you understand Mando’a  
Nuhoyii = sleep


End file.
